


Tract

by Stingray



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 21:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stingray/pseuds/Stingray
Summary: Kelly hadn't even heard it had happened until Truck 81 rolled back into the bay, no Lieutenant Casey aboard. Apparently an ambulance had taken him to the hospital and Kelly's heart nearly stopped because this wasn't supposed to happen. Nobody was allowed to hurt his Matt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! Peeps! I know many of you have twitter, please feel free to hit me up if you want to talk Sevasey, Chicago Fire, life in general, or anything else under the sun! My handle is @sevasey :)
> 
> Enjoy this fic, love you all! <3

Through the many trials and terrors that had arose throughout their jobs, Matt and Kelly had learned the hard way that it was hard to resist comforting one another when an injury occurred. Today, when the cold steel of the machete punctured the skin of Matt's leg, was no exception. Kelly hadn't even heard it had happened until Truck 81 rolled back into the bay, no Lieutenant Casey aboard. Apparently an ambulance had taken him to the hospital and Kelly's heart nearly stopped because this wasn't supposed to happen. Nobody was allowed to hurt his Matt.

Truck was just returning to the firehouse for a few minutes to talk with Chief Boden about it, the incident and the events following. But they were all antsy to get back to the hospital to see their man through this. Boden drove the battalion truck over to the emergency department as soon as he heard the words Casey and hospital in the same sentence. Kelly had asked Chief if he could tag along, but Boden told him to hang back and hold down the fort. Kelly swore under his breath once the other man was out of earshot, and ran a shaky hand through short hair. Sometimes being in a hidden relationship was harder than he'd ever expected it to be. The lies, the lack of affection at work, the worry that someone would find out, it all stressed the two of them out, yet they knew it would be easier this way. Severide looked longingly after Truck 81 as it ripped toward the hospital, the smell of diesel settling in it's wake. He needed to see Matt, was the only thought on his mind as he slowly sauntered inside to grab a coffee.

Maybe Matt had been going too hard when it came figuring this whole crack house thing. Perhaps he'd overstepped the bounds into territory that wasn't really supposed to be his territory. Hell, he was a firefighter, not a police officer. But when someone was obviously in trouble, Matt wasn't really the kind of guy to just let that go. And maybe he hadn't expected to get a slash across his leg from a big-ass machete wielded by the world's worst douchebag, but he never thought it would be that dangerous. He never thought the guy would actually lunge forward and swing a hit that sliced straight through his turnout gear and into his leg, cutting skin like it was melted butter, settling into quivering muscle. 

Being the coward he was, the guy had run away as quickly as he could. So a full fledged attack seemed to be more or less out of the question. Matt's turnout pants were turning red with the blood that oozed from his cut, so he sat down, laid down in fact. More like collapsed. Herrmann, who was the first to get to Casey's side, noticed right away that the blood was coming out much too fast, so he called in an ambulance without hesitation. 

Matt didn't scream, or cry, or really do much of anything. Besides breathing of course. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

The adrenaline was blocking the pain, and really everything else, so he didn't move or speak. He heard Herrmann shouting orders to the men, calling the ambulance, letting the bad guy run. Because apparently he wasn't worth it. Casey was proud of Herrmann, he would've done the same thing.

Matt started to fade into the darkness, the quiet oblivion that seemed oh so appealing right now. The paramedics told him to stay awake, they told him he had to keep his eyes open. Except they didn't want to be open, they were being pulled closed by the oblivion. He started to panic inside a little, because he knew he was losing blood, he could feel it dripping out of the cut. He wanted Kelly, he needed to be held right now. He needed to look into the other lieutenant's eyes and he wanted Kelly to tell him it would be okay. Matt opened his eyes to look around, somehow under the impression that he'd glance around and find Kelly's face among those that were knelt beside him at the moment. He wasn't there, and then suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit Matt. His body fought to stay awake, it really did, but it was too much, so he faded into unconsciousness. 

Kelly was stressfully pacing up and down the hallway outside his office. His Matty hurt, and he couldn't go see him. He didn't want the blonde to wake up alone, but he was stuck at the firehouse until end of shift. What if Matt's injuries were bad? Nobody had told him the extent of things, what if he didn't make it out of the hospital doors alive? Kelly shuddered.

If you asked Kelly, he'd tell you the rest of shift lasted a hundred hours. Maybe it wasn't the truth, but it sure as hell felt like it. He anxiously waited for the exact moment that his shift was technically over, when the minute hand on his watch hit the right spot, and he was out of the firehouse faster than he knew he could go. He drove to the hospital as fast as legally possible, and maybe a little faster at some points.

"Here to see Matthew Casey." Kelly huffed at the front desk, out of breath from the run from his car to into the building.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected to see when he walked into the room. Matt was pale, and he had bags under his eyes, his leg was bandaged up quite heavily but other than that, he seemed okay. He was breathing on his own, and sleeping soundly, that was good. Kelly sat down in the chair next to the bed, and for the first time today he slowed down and just stopped to think. He watched silently as Matt's chest rose with each inhale, fell with each exhale. He grabbed Matt's hand gently, almost afraid that if he was too rough he'd break it into a million pieces. It was cold and stiff. Kelly pulled the blankets up past his waist and up to his chin, covering both arms, leaving the injured leg exposed in case a nurse had to come in to check on it or something. Kelly covered Matt's hand with both of his in order to warm him up, so that he wouldn't be quite so cold.

Kelly hadn't slept much last night, in fact, he had been awake nearly the entire night, tossing and turning, worrying about his Matt. So Kelly took the opportunity to lay his head on the bed beside Matt's waist, his hands still feverishly clutching Matt's cold one.

When Matt's eyes fluttered open for the first time this morning, he was pleasantly surprised to see Kelly sitting there, asleep in the chair by the bed. Matt tried to call out to him, but his throat was dry and sore, and he was still quite woozy, possibly because of whatever medication he'd been given. So it was only a glorified grunt that emerged from him. Kelly woke up right away, and noticing that Matt was struggling to talk, picked up the cup of water beside the bed and helped Matt drink from the straw.

It helped to clear his throat and he could speak better already. "Kel." A single muffled word, but a joy to Kelly's ears nonetheless.

"Hey, Matty." He cooed, a hand slipping along the edge of Matt's face. Matt smiled for the first time since before this whole incident even occurred. 

"Gud you to final' show up." Matt mumbled, tired even though he was sure he'd been asleep for at least a week straight.

A doctor walked into the room and Kelly switched back to having both hands on Matt's left one. Bros hold hands right? The doctor checked the wound and seemed pleased. He looked at the clipboard on the foot of Kelly's bed and checked off some things, doctor stuff.

Matt and Kelly exchanged a soft look as the doctor did his thing, it was deeper than just the eyes, almost as if they were looking inside of each other.

And then they were at home, the doctor had released Matt under the conditions that he promised to take it easy, and that he had someone at home who could look after him. Matt hadn't told the doctor that Kelly, his boyfriend, would be the one taking care of him, but he promised he would be looked after none the less. Of course, the drive home was painful, moving his leg in any way was painful, everything was sore. But Kelly kept insisting that he'd feel better soon, that he would take care of him, help him. So Matt wasn't too worried.

He had crutches so that he could keep the weight off his leg, but he enjoyed Kelly's version of transportation better. A ride, in his strong arms, holding him tight like nothing could hurt him anymore. From the car to the front door, from there to the couch in the living room, were he set Matt down gently, carefully propping up his leg on the coffee table. 

"Time for a beer?" Matt asked with a smile, trying to charm his way into it.

"It's 11am!" Kelly chuckled through his response, "Plus, if you recall, you can't mix your pain killers with alcohol."

"Damnit so close," Matt said with a sigh, looking downwardly in feigned defeat.

"Not even a bit. Coffee coming right up," Kelly replied with a wink, leaning down to give Matt a kiss on the forehead before doing just that. Matt couldn't help the smile that tugged at the edges of his mouth. 

Wasn't long before he had a steaming cup of Joe in his hands, cozy arms embracing him tightly and a blanket around both of them. The TV was playing their favourite show, and how the hell does life get better than that.


End file.
